


Crossing Hands

by Mooifyourecows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Who am I, i dont think i even used a single curse word, pure fluff, thats it, thats the whole story, the most innocent thing i've ever written ever, two nerds make a music baby together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 14:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooifyourecows/pseuds/Mooifyourecows
Summary: Akaashi would have had to have been living under a rock the past two years to not know this particular upperclassman. He was something of a celebrity among the student body, known partly for his intensity on the volleyball court and partly for his violent mood swings that seemed to never fail to get him in trouble.But knowing who he was only added to the confusion of seeing him there.Just what on Earth was Bokuto Koutarou doing in Akaashi’s domain?





	Crossing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> A little thing I wrote for a close friend a while back that I immediately forgot to post because I'm actually a real life trash goblin.  
> Love ya forever and always Kana<3

Akaashi rested his hands in his lap, fingers of his left twisting and picking at the somewhat frayed edge of the white cast encasing his right. Yamiji sat across from him at the desk, gently humming as he shuffled through the papers laid out in front of him. His index finger beat a steady rhythm on the wood and Akaashi allowed the calming sound to slow the beating of his heart.

Finally, after what felt like half an hour, Yamiji’s tapping ceased and he raised his eyes to Akaashi’s face.

“Honestly, it’s spectacular,” he said.

Akaashi’s shoulders relaxed and a soft breath fled through his parted lips.

“Thank—”

“It’s a shame you won’t be able to enter it this year.” Yamiji gathered the sheet music into a stack and straightened it.

Akaashi hesitated. “But…”

“I’m sorry, Keiji-kun. You know the rules. Any piece entered into the competition must also be performed. And with your arm like that…”

Akaashi swallowed and stared down at the cast.

“It’s a shame,” Yamiji said again, voice gentling. “But you’re still a second year. You have the opportunity to enter it next season.”

“If I can find someone to perform it in my stead—”

Yamiji let out a bark of laughter. “The great and terrible perfectionist, allowing someone _else_ to play his beloved composition before a table of judges?” He pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think I might keel over dead if that day should ever come.”

Akaashi didn’t reply. As much as he hated to admit it, he was right. The very thought of putting the responsibility of performing his piece in anyone else’s hands made his stomach acid revolt.

Yamiji stood and offered the stack of sheet music to him.

“It really is incredible, Keiji-kun,” he said, voice apologetic. “I can’t wait to hear it.” He patted his back and led him from his office.

“Thank you Sensei,” Akaashi mumbled, tucking the music under his arm. He bowed and took his leave, traveling down the hallway in the direction of the music room.

He really did have the worst timing. If he was going to break his arm, couldn’t it have been _after_ the competition that could well decide the fate of his future as a composer?

_You’re still a second year_.

He had heard those words so many times in the past two weeks that just thinking them made him sick. So what if he was still just a second year? Opportunity was a precious commodity that ought to never be squandered, especially not over the pathetic excuse of being _young_. Youth was no reason to sit by and watch his chances pass. The sooner he could secure his future, the sooner he could start _living_ it.

Akaashi entered the music room, allowing the door to click softly shut behind him. It was empty, as he knew it would be. No one ever spent their much coveted lunch break in the practice room.

No one but Akaashi, of course.

He released a sigh and set his music down on a table as he passed it. His eyes drifted to the grand piano sitting silently across the room. The frustration of knowing that, even if he sat at its bench, he’d only be able to play half the piece turned him away from the instrument. He went instead to the door that connected the practice area to the small room inside which file cabinets filled with sheet music lined the walls. He walked to the cabinet in the most inner reaches of the room and pulled the top drawer open. Inside was where the blank, pre-lined sheets were stored. He gathered up a small stack and turned for the door once more.

The sound of a piano key being tapped slowed his steps and he paused in the doorway.

A student stood beside the piano, one hand over the keys and the other in the pocket of his uniform slacks. He didn’t wear his blazer, and the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to his elbows, leaving his toned forearms on display. The top three buttons of the shirt were undone, and his striped, blue tie was loosened. And though Akaashi had never spoken to him before, he knew immediately who he was. The tall, grey and white hair atop his head gave him away in an instant.

Akaashi would have had to have been living under a rock the past two years to not know this particular upperclassman. He was something of a celebrity among the student body, known partly for his intensity on the volleyball court and partly for his violent mood swings that seemed to never fail to get him in trouble.

But knowing who he was only added to the confusion of seeing him there.

Just what on Earth was Bokuto Koutarou doing in Akaashi’s domain?

Bokuto tapped the key again, and then moved to the one a step lower.

Akaashi cleared his throat and Bokuto’s head lifted in his direction, golden eyes wide.

“Can I help you?”

Bokuto removed his hand from the piano and shoved it into his pocket.

“Oh. I didn’t know anybody was in here.”

His voice was melodic in an interesting, rough way. His inflection roamed wild through his words, flavoring them with personality.

Akaashi hummed and entered the room.

“You a musician?” Bokuto asked, turning his body towards him when he headed for the table upon which he had placed his composition.

“Yes,” Akaashi replied. He set his blank sheets down.

“What d’ya play?”

“At the moment? The pencil.” He lifted a pencil from a cup and sat in a chair.

“Oh, damn yeah. What happened to your arm?”

Normally, Akaashi wasn’t a huge fan of making small talk with virtual strangers. But the boy’s melodic voice was pleasing to listen to and sparked something akin to inspiration, so he welcomed the distraction.

“I slipped on the ice and fell,” Akaashi said.

“Ehh, that’s it? You’ve got brittle bones!” His volume lifted, and a soft growl wandered its way into the ‘ _r’_ of the word _brittle._

“It’s more about the angle at which I fell on it than the brittleness of my bones,” Akaashi countered.

Bokuto let out a boisterous, barking laugh. “If you say so! Hey, what’s your name?”

“Akaashi Kei—”

“’Kaashi! Hey, when your arm’s not broke, what d’ya play?”

Akaashi leaned his elbow on the table. “A few things. Cello, viola, violin, trombone, drums, clarinet—”

“Holy crap! Are you one of those like, uh… child prodigies?”

“Well I’m seventeen. So I’m not sure if you could consider me a child.”

“Just a normal prodigy then!” Bokuto grinned a white, toothy smile and Akaashi found his lips twitching in response.

“I guess so.”

“That’s so cool!” Bokuto walked over to him and glanced down at the blank sheet music. He pointed at it, arched eyebrows lifting high on his forehead. “Hold up. Do you write your own music too?”

“Yes…”

“Wow!” Bokuto slammed his palms down on the table, sending a loud _WHAP!_ echoing through the room. Akaashi jumped in surprise at the sudden outburst. Bokuto leaned over him and Akaashi was suddenly aware of how large the other boy was. “So on top of being a prodigy at playing music, you’re also a prodigy at _writing_ it?”

Akaashi shifted and lowered his eyes, uneasy under the weight of the praise.

“I… well…”

Bokuto lifted Akaashi’s composition.

“Oh, that’s—” Akaashi reached for it, but Bokuto straightened away, curious gaze flitting excitedly over the top page.

“Wow,” he breathed. “This is so cool… it looks totally legit!” His eyes wandered to the top left side of the paper. “Piano! Hey, I can play the piano!”

Akaashi took the music from his hands and cleared his throat. “Can you?”

“Yeah! My dad taught me!” Bokuto turned and bolted to the grand piano. He sat on the bench and grinned at Akaashi over his shoulder. “Listen!”

Akaashi pursed his lips and prepared to hear yet another pathetic rendition of _Chopsticks,_ AKA the world’s most torturous song that every person and their goldfish knew how to play.

Bokuto lifted his arms and shook out his fingers, putting on a big show of stretching himself out before his performance. His back was straight as a pin and he thrust his hands up higher and then dropped them down, crushing his fingers into a tremendous chord. Sound exploded through the room and Akaashi flinched at the harshness of the tone.

But then Bokuto’s hands were moving. His fingers danced over the keys with a grace that looked impossible from someone famous for slamming down volleyballs. A sweet and full melody swelled from the instrument, and Akaashi slowly rose from his seat, watching with wide eyes. Bokuto’s body curved and rocked with the motion of his hands up and down the length of the piano. His right hand feathered over the higher registers while his left pounded out a rhythmic harmony, gaining and losing volume with the rising and falling of the music’s emotion.

Akaashi, entranced, moved across the room, rounding the piano in a wide arc. He feared interrupting the music and stepped lightly, balanced on the toes of his shoes. As he made his way around, he brought his attention to Bokuto’s face. His lips were curled into a peaceful smile, his eyes closed as he swayed to the rhythm of his song.

Akaashi was so thrown by the unexpected skill that he didn’t even dissect the music like he typically would, adding labels to key changes and time signatures. He could do nothing but stare as Bokuto filled the room with beauty.

When the song ended, it was too soon. It was far too soon. Akaashi needed to hear more. There had to be more. The gentle chord that Bokuto’s fingers coaxed from the keys and held for long seconds as the remnants of the music softly faded away just _couldn’t_ be the end.

But Bokuto’s eyes opened and he found Akaashi hovering nearby, bringing a bright grin to his lips yet again. He removed his hands from the keys and Akaashi felt the loss as if they had been taken away from his own skin.

“What d’ya think?” he asked, voice laced with giddy expectation.

“Incredible,” Akaashi breathed the word through his lips and moved closer. He gripped the side of the piano and stared at him with wide eyes. “Incredible, Bokuto-san. What was that piece called? I didn’t recognize it.”

“My Pops wrote it! It’s called _Broken Wing_.”

“Your dad _wrote_ it?” Akaashi blinked. “Is he a composer?”

“Nah, he works construction. He just writes and plays as a hobby. Learned it from my Gramps. And he learned it from his dad and so on for like… hundreds of years or something.” Bokuto scratched his cheek. “It’s kinda like a family tradition, I guess.”

Akaashi didn’t speak for long seconds. His mind was reeling and he couldn’t properly formulate words.

Bokuto hummed cheerfully and plucked out a relaxed melody with his right hand, leaning on the heel of his left on the bench.

“You have no professional training?” Akaashi finally managed to croak, clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“What counts as professional training?” Bokuto laughed. “My Pops might not be a pro by your standards, but he’s a pro to me. And he trained me, so does that not count as professional training?”

Akaashi hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect—”

Bokuto laughed again, a full, infectious sound. “Don’t worry about it!”

Akaashi watched him silently while his fingers continued to dance over the keys. Akaashi’s own fingers itched and he glanced over his shoulder at the table upon which his composition sat. It had yet to be played in its entirety since Akaashi had finished writing it the night prior.

Though he could hear it clearly in his head, he still wondered, _hungered,_ for how it would sound to his ears. He turned back to Bokuto.

“Bokuto-san… can you read sheet music?”

“Hm? Yeah!”

Akaashi paused, warring with his pride, and finally turned for the table. He fetched the composition and brought it to the piano.

“Would you play this for me?”

Bokuto’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

“You want me to play your song?” he practically screamed, voice pitching and falling with inflection. “Really? Seriously?”

Akaashi handed it to him hesitantly. “I just finished it last night… and though it looks satisfactory to me… I’d like to hear it out loud…”

Bokuto eagerly spread the music across the piano, eyes darting over the measures, following the progression of notes. He held his hands over the keys and Akaashi held his breath in anticipation.

And then he was playing.

Akaashi’s heart swelled with the music and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound to surround and consume him, allowing the late nights of pencil shavings and frustration to come to fruition by someone else’s hands.

Until he encountered the first mistake.

He opened his eyes again and moved to Bokuto’s side.

“Uhm…”

Bokuto’s hands paused and he looked up at him.

“The left hand,” Akaashi said. He pointed at the second page. “Right around here, you’re playing…” He sang the harmony he had heard from Bokuto. “When it’s supposed to be more like…” He sang the correction.

“Like this?” Bokuto tried it again but it still wasn’t quite right.

“No…” Akaashi walked around and sat on the bench to his left. “Like this…” He played the notes, slightly slower than the tempo so that he could properly hear the rhythm.

Bokuto watched his hand quietly, eyes darting between it and the sheet music.

When Akaashi reached the end of the page, he stopped and looked up at Bokuto. “See?”

“Do it again,” Bokuto said. He pointed at a measure. “From here.”

“Alright.” Akaashi started the piece over. After a few seconds, Bokuto joined in, but not playing the same part, rather, he added the right hand’s melody.

Akaashi’s heart leapt and he sucked in a sudden breath, chest filling with giddy warmth over the realization that his composition was being played, and he was the one playing it, even if only half.

He lost himself in the music, to the point that he fell into his usual manner of swaying with the movement of his fingers. His shoulder collided with Bokuto’s and his hand stumbled over the keys. He pulled back, putting distance between them on the bench.

“Sorry,” he said, pressing his hand into his lap in embarrassment.

Bokuto laughed. “What’s there to apologize for? Sometimes you just gotta move with the music!” He hummed and looked down at the bench, adjusting on it. “Too bad it’s pretty difficult to play together on the same piano, huh?” His expression brightened and he grinned at him. “But we can make it work!”

Bokuto’s left arm reached out and circled Akaashi’s waist. He dragged him into his side, closing the space between them in one swift motion. A small gasp escaped Akaashi’s lips at suddenly being pressed flush against the other boy’s side, but he didn’t move away.

“Okay, let’s try it from the top!” Bokuto whooped. His arm remained around Akaashi’s waist, hand resting firm against his hip and bunching the blazer of his uniform. “Ready?”

Akaashi leaned his right arm on his thigh and cleared his throat.

“Ready,” he confirmed and spread the fingers of his left hand over the keys. Bokuto took his place as well and Akaashi counted low under his breath.

They leapt into the music once more and Akaashi couldn’t believe how effortless it was to play with Bokuto. He kept time perfectly, fingers fluttering through the melody and matching the emotion Akaashi intended to come through the sound. As they moved further into the song, they even synced the motion of their bodies, swaying together, arms billowing close and then away like an intricate dance.

And then came the part of the song where Akaashi had written the left hand crossing over the right to hit a chord in a higher octave. Without thinking, he leaned over, throwing his hand out towards the keys in question. At the same time, Bokuto’s hand lifted from the keys and they collided, the force of Akaashi’s blow knocking Bokuto down until his palm crushed into the piano, sending an ugly, dissonance ringing through the room.

“ _Ah! Man down!”_ Bokuto belted.

A loud, cackling laugh erupted from Akaashi’s mouth and he slapped his hand over it to capture the noise, eyes wide in shock that such an ugly sound had actually come from him.

“ _Ha ha! What was that?_ ” Bokuto turned his golden eyed stare to him. “Is that how you _laugh_?”

Akaashi’s face burned and he lowered his hand and looked away. “No-no… I was just… surprised. I—”

Bokuto laughed again, arm squeezing Akaashi around the waist. He leaned into him, head dipping forward and staring into his face when he tried to hide it.

“That was so cute!”

Akaashi wanted to sink into the floor.

“No it’s not,” he mumbled, voice tight with mortification. “It’s ugly.”

“No way! It was totally adorable!”

Akaashi cleared his throat and busied himself with fixing his hair at his temple.

“Anyway,” he finally said. “Should we take it from here?” He pointed to a spot on the sheet music.

“Sure!” Bokuto replied happily.

And Akaashi was suddenly much more aware of the strong hold on his hip. Wasn’t it weird that Bokuto was touching him in such a way? His grip was tight, warm.

But not completely unwelcome.

Which was the most shocking part.

Akaashi wasn’t accustomed to… _welcoming_ physical contact.

They leapt into the song and soon they were immersed once more. So immersed that they forgot to keep track of the other’s hand and when Akaashi moved to cross over Bokuto’s they crashed again.

Bokuto shouted laughter and meek chuckles bubbled to Akaashi’s lips.

“Sorry.” Bokuto scratched his hair. “At that part though, I get excited about this really cool chord right here so I lift my hand up higher than I need to because I wanna hit it like _BAM_ , you know?”

Akaashi looked at the sheet music.

“That’s okay. I _want_ you to hit it like _bam_.”

“That’s what she said!”

“Bokuto-san please.” Akaashi rubbed his eyes, though he couldn’t prevent a smile from curling his lips.

“Let’s try again!”

And they did. In fact, they tried it again, and again, and again, and the result continued to be several variations of the same. Eventually the mistake came from the clumsiness of neither of them being able to stop laughing, the sounds of which rose over the sound of the piano.

“You did it again!” Akaashi accused, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Bokuto-san there are four more sections where the left hand needs to cross over the right! We will never get through the song if we can’t even get this first one.”

“I’m sorry!” Bokuto slumped against Akaashi’s shoulder, body rumbling with a full belly laugh. “I’m not doing it on purpose, I promise!”

Akaashi hummed, unconvinced.

“Let’s do it again! This time I’ll get it right, I swear!”

“Okay fine.” He counted them down and they jumped back into the song. The cross over quickly approached. Bokuto started giggling at his side and Akaashi’s mouth stretched into a smile. Then, seeming to share a moment of unspoken understanding, they went for the cross…

And high-fived instead.

Boisterous laughter swelled through the room. Akaashi leaned heavily into Bokuto, tears slipping down his cheeks as he released his inhibitions and allowed his ugly cackle to gain volume. The sound only made Bokuto laugh harder, which in turn made Akaashi do the same, and soon they were both sobbing, hands still pressed together midair.

“ _Cuuuute_ ,” Bokuto moaned. “’Kaashi, your laugh is so _cute_!”

“Shu-shut up.” Akaashi attempted to pull his hand away but Bokuto locked their fingers together.

“No way! Not until you admit it’s cute!”

Akaashi pushed out an exasperated breath. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Go on,” Bokuto sang, left hand sliding up from his hip and tugging him closer. “Admit it. Or else I ain’t lettin’ you go!”

Akaashi looked away, face turning hot. “How juvenile—”

“Yep! So are you gonna say it or take a punishment?”

“Punishment?”

“Hell yeah! A kouhai disrespecting his senpai like that?” Bokuto’s eyes were wide. “There’s no way you can go unpunished!”

Akaashi pursed his lips. “Bokuto-san, that sounds wildly unreasonable. First of all, it’s not disrespectful for me to—”

“So disrespectful, talking back to your senpai!” Bokuto interrupted.

“Furthermore, it’s not like we are in a club together or anything like that. We don’t even know each other so this kind of conversation about _cuteness_ and—”

“Alright, you’ve chosen punishment!”

Bokuto’s hand grew firmer against Akaashi’s back and he pulled him closer, leaning forward to erase the space between their lips. The kiss was as boisterous as the boy who gave it to him, his mouth molding comfortably against Akaashi’s for a moment before his lips nipped at Akaashi’s bottom one.

Akaashi allowed himself to be drawn in to the kiss, somehow less shocked by how welcome the touch was. There was just something infectious about Bokuto.

They kissed until their clasped hands dipped too low and both of their elbows connected with the keys of the piano, startling them apart with two loud chords.

Akaashi pulled his hand away and Bokuto finally released his waist, allowing him to slide across the bench and put space between them.

Bokuto rubbed the back of his head and laughed.

“Man, that was a lame move, wasn’t it?”

Akaashi gulped, lips still tingling.

“Sorry,” Bokuto said and cleared his throat into his fist. “You’re just really pretty and cool.”

Akaashi blinked.

“And Aki says I have a bad habit of getting caught up in my own moods so I figured it’d be okay if I just kissed you but wow now I’m totally realizing that that was a totally crazy thing to do. I mean, we don’t even know each other and this is the first time we’ve ever spoken and it’s only been about music and there’s no part of what we said that could be mistaken for flirting but I just got this sudden thought when I was lookin’ at you and listenin’ to your cute laugh, like I thought _holy cow this guy is really adorable and beautiful and I really wanna kiss him_. So I just kinda… uh… well, did. And you’re probably thinking I’m nuts or something because damn I just went for it without even asking for permission and—”

Akaashi lifted a hand. “Bokuto-san please stop.”

“Ah, jeez. Sorry. You’re mad, aren’t you?” Bokuto’s brows furrowed. “Ah crap.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m so stupid. Shit. That was dumb. I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

Bokuto stood and turned. Akaashi leaned forward and caught the back of his shirt. Bokuto hesitated and looked at him over his shoulder, brow creased with confusion.

Akaashi’s chest tightened.

“I… I’ll forgive you. On… On one condition.”

Bokuto slowly lowered to the bench once more and Akaashi released his shirt.

“What condition?”

Akaashi glanced at the sheet music on the piano. His palms turned clammy and he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I wrote this piece for a competition,” he said. “But… the rules say that it needs to be performed before the judges. But since my arm is like this…” He lifted his cast. “I can’t perform it.”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side.

“Bokuto-san… will you take my place and play it for me?”

It was surprisingly difficult to get the words out, and Akaashi looked away once he said them. As much as it pained him to ask someone else to play his composition for judges, it hurt more to think that he would have to wait an entire year before his hard work was recognized.

“Nah.”

Akaashi jerked his head to Bokuto and stared at him with wide eyes. He had been so sure that he would accept, the sudden rejection jarred him to the bone.

“Wha-what? You won’t?”

Bokuto rubbed the back of his neck, lips twisting uneasily.

“It wouldn’t feel right,” he admitted in a low voice. “It’s yours. You should be the one to play it.”

“But I _can’t_.”

“Sure you can!”

“No, the competition is in a week. I won’t—”

“We can play it together!”

Akaashi froze.

“It’d be better if you could play it all by yourself,” Bokuto said and plucked at the piano keys. “But since you can’t… a duet is the second best thing, right?”

A duet.

Akaashi could still… perform.

He swallowed and turned forward.

“I… I guess that’s fine. We better practice those crossovers though.”

Bokuto let out a laugh and scooted into his side, arm finding its way around Akaashi’s waist once more.

“So you forgive me then? For kissin’ you?”

Akaashi hummed and pressed his fingers into a soft chord.

“I suppose,” he whispered. “It’s not like I was mad in the first place.”

“You weren’t?”

“… not really.”

“Oh good. ‘Cause I’m gonna do it again.”

Akaashi looked at him, heart leaping. “Wha—”

Bokuto cupped his jaw and pulled him against his mouth once more. Akaashi hesitated momentarily and then sank into the kiss, reaching up and gripping the front of his shirt.

When Bokuto broke away, he stroked his thumb over Akaashi’s cheekbone and let out a soft sigh.

“I like that,” he whispered.

Akaashi just barely resisted agreeing with the simple statement.

“Hey ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi leaned away. “Yes, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto glanced at the sheet music. “There’s no title yet. What’re you gonna call it?”

He pursed his lips. “I… don’t know.”

“Hmmm…” Bokuto tapped his chin, brow furrowed. “I know!”

Akaashi cocked an eyebrow.

“You should call it…” Bokuto lifted his hands and splayed his fingers. “ _Crossing Hands: Big Struggle in Little Spaces._ ”

Akaashi sputtered and released a tremendous, snorting cackle, the disgusting sound echoing throughout the room.

Bokuto’s mouth stretched wide in toothy grin and his hand rested on Akaashi’s knee.

“ _So cute…_ ”

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> wow, can you believe I actually wrote something short for a change?  
> wow amazing  
> incredible  
> i've leveled up  
> or down  
> can't decide
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr.](http://mooifyourecows.tumblr.com/)


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